


Last Straw

by Krank



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bromance, Drabble, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krank/pseuds/Krank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry is overbearing and a downright nuisance but in his defense Niall is grumpy and a bit high-strung.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Straw

**Author's Note:**

> _This was originally a prompt-fill on Tumblr._

The best way for Niall to describe Harry Styles' living situation would probably be _transient_. His 'house' had been 'under construction' for the better part of two years according to the lad, and though apparently it was somewhere in London, Niall had never laid eyes on it. Because of this he spent his down time between several of his friends' flats and homes, including but not limited to Grimmy's, Ben Winston's, and Niall's own. Sometimes he'd finally go home to Cheshire and camp out in the bedroom he'd had as a teen, though that didn't happen often.

If Niall was honest, he sort of thought Harry might have a bit of an issue with commitment.

But that was just his opinion.

Harry had been in the U.S for the better part of January. It seemed they had all just finally returned to their country and gotten settled for Christmas before he was off again, spending time in the sun in California with the many friends he'd collected over the years. He was like Niall in that everyone seemed to be attracted to his aura, though the blond would be lying if he said he didn't question the intentions of some of the celebrities Harry frequented with.

After all that time away, though, Harry was finally returning home to where he belonged, and as luck would have it, he'd rung Niall at arse o'clock in the morning asking if he might have a couch he could borrow. It seemed it was Niall's turn to play host to the gangliest member of the band.

He couldn't say he minded, really, though Harry could be a bit... _much_ , sometimes. He was usually very relaxed, and sometimes Niall didn't even see him while he was couch surfing, waking up in the morning to just evidence of someone having been sprawled on his sofa the night before. And then sometimes Harry was clingy like a koala, following him around and going out with him and his friends and being downright _needy._ Sometimes he was a like a child that you always had to keep entertained else they got themselves in to trouble, and that would be fine if Niall weren't hobbling around on crutches in a near constant state of drug-induced haze.

He wasn't sure his health was up for a Harry visit.

After he received the call, he wiggled back down under his covers to stave off the winter chill. He was just getting settled to catch at least another hour of sleep when his doorbell went off.

Niall glared at his bedroom wall.

  
  


“Hello!” Harry grinned, standing awkwardly on his doorstep, canvas duffle in hand.

Niall grimaced. “You were already here when you called to ask if you could stay?” He asked, moving aside to let Harry in out of the cold. A part of him wanted to shut the door in his face and let him meditate out in the frosty weather for a bit longer as a punishment, though he wasn't _satan_ so he figured he better not.

Harry looked the same as always, with a silly bandana tied around his head and his wispy curls sticking out from under it. He looked tired, but then again Harry always seemed to look tired, and Niall knew it was because he was a chronically terrible sleeper. He found it difficult to sleep in foreign places, and would end up trying to catch a nap on any available surface, though it still wasn't enough to make the dark circles under his eyes disappear. He'd told Niall once in confidence that he never truly felt safe in unfamiliar places, regardless of how comfortable the bed was. Niall hoped that since he was home, he'd find a temporary cure for that.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Harry shrugged. “I forgot to call when I landed.” _And during the entire forty minute drive you had to my house,_ Niall thought bitterly.

The brunette disappeared in to the living room, and Niall was about to follow when he looked down to see that he had missed the doormat entirely when he'd kicked off his boots, getting his hardwood floors wet. Niall sighed, skillfully maneuvering himself and his crutches so that he could snatch the shoes off of the floor and place them neatly by the door alongside all of the others.

When Niall entered the living room, Harry looked up from his phone and smiled, only to zero in on Niall's crutches. “Shit! I completely forgot about that!” He jumped up and came towards him. “I didn't even see them when I came in. Here, have a seat! Do you need help?”

“Christ, Harry, stop it!” Niall snapped, wrenching his arm out of the taller boys' grasp as he hobbled over to the couch. “I live on my own, I think I can manage.” He flopped back on to the cushions, letting out a sigh. His knee was doing much better, though he had yet to take his painkillers that day and he could feel a steady throb shooting through his entire leg.

“Well you're not on your own at the moment, so let me look after you.”

Niall winced. “That really isn't necessary.” He thought of all the things that could go wrong with Harry's suggestion, leaving the younger man to flit around his house playing nurse maid. Niall prided himself on being completely independent, and up until then he hadn't let his surgery change that. He was also quite particular about his things.

Though, as he watched the pout slip on to Harry's face as he stood over him in the dim morning light shining through the patio door, Niall felt his resolve crumbling. He'd really missed that face. “Fine.”

  
  


Despite Niall's initial reluctance, he quickly decided that he sort of _liked_ having Harry around to help him out. He wouldn't get used to it, because it probably wouldn't happen again. He knew he'd be back to pushing himself in no time, though he welcomed the rest.

Harry began by getting him his pills and a blanket from the closet to curl up with. He helped to prop his knee up on pillows to make it more comfortable, and then got to work making breakfast. Niall let himself get excited about that, because Harry was an excellent cook, and Niall had all the ingredients in the house to make a classic fry-up.

Niall had been living almost solely on take-away since he'd gotten back from America, not that he'd tell anyone that. He tried to keep it healthy, but then other times he'd just drive to McDonald's and indulge a bit.

They ate on the sofa while they watched television, and once Niall's painkillers kicked in he got drowsy. He felt like all he'd done since getting his surgery was sleep because of how strong his meds were. He felt next to useless, though he also knew that physical therapy was looming on the horizon, and that he should savour the free pass to laziness while he could. And so Niall burrowed down in to the couch cushions and closed his heavy eyelids.

“Do you need anything?” Harry asked from the other end of his sectional.

Niall sighed. “Nope. 'M alright.”

“Okay. If you're sure.”

“I'm sure, Haz.”

Niall had only been dozing for five minutes when he was startled by a shrill ringing noise accompanied by violent vibrating sounds against his glass coffee table. He glanced over to see Harry snatching up the offending phone.

“Hello?” His deep voice drawled. “Hey! How are you?”

Niall closed his eye and tried to ignore the Cheshire boys' booming voice as he talked to whoever was on the phone. Harry _had_ been gone for a month, and he was a terribly popular guy.

“Yeah, I just landed this morning.” There was a pause as the person on the other end of the phone spoke. “No, I'm actually at Niall's right now. I'm taking care of him.”

Niall frowned. “You're not taking care of me.” He interrupted.

Harry ignored him. “Yeah, that sounds fun and I'd love to, but, you know, he sort of needs me right now.”

“I don't _need_ you.”

Harry ended his phone call. And immediately began texting. With his keyboard sounds on.

“I think I'll just move to my room.” Niall began to sit up, grabbing his crutches off of the floor. He didn't know why he felt so annoyed. He really shouldn't, because he loved Harry, but for some reason he was getting on his nerves and Niall figured he better leave before he snapped at him.

“Oh! Let me help you!” Harry began to rise from the couch as well, when Niall stopped him.

“I can move just fine, mate,” Niall interjected. He wobbled on to one foot and secured himself as he moved towards the hallway to his bedroom.

“Alright, do you need anything? A glass of water, or -”

“No, thanks,” Niall waved him off. Then, he remembered something. “Though do you think you could record the Derby game so I can watch it later?”

Harry was pleased at having been given a job. “Of course!”

Niall paused. “You can work the television just fine, then?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Just because I didn't understand your elaborate blender that one time, doesn't mean I don't know how to work a bloody T.V.”

  
  


Niall had an incredible nap. He dreamt he was trapped inside of the Guinness factory. When he woke he felt refreshed, and in much better spirits than earlier in the day. He'd slept all the way through the afternoon, and could smell food as he sat up in bed, his stomach rumbling.

Harry was _cooking_ again _._

Niall traveled back out to the living room as fast as his crutches would allow. He saw two place settings on his coffee table, with glasses of water accompanying them. The swinging door that led to his kitchen opened and Harry appeared with two plates of pasta. He grinned over at him. “I was just about to come wake you! I hope you don't mind fettuccine. I was craving some.”

Niall shook his head. “Sounds perfect.”

He made his way over to the couch and carefully sat down as Harry set his dinner plate in front of him. Niall wasn't sure about other guys, but the way to his heart was definitely through his stomach. To complete his perfect meal, he grabbed the remote and flicked through his options to find the Derby game that he'd missed as Harry tucked in to his own food. Though, as Niall scrolled through the recorded shows, his expression grew grim. There was no Derby match recorded, the newest shows on the list being five consecutive episodes of 'Great British Bake-Off'.

“You recorded the match, right?” Niall asked slowly.

Harry frowned. “Of course I did!”

“Then where is it?”

Harry finally looked up at the screen. “Oh, I _watched_ bake-off, but I definitely recorded football. I made sure of it.”

Niall sighed and set the remote down, a bit dejected. “Well, you didn't.”

There was a long pause before Harry spoke again. “I don't know how to use your television.”

  
  


Later in the evening Niall resorted to strumming his guitar out of boredom, playing gentle melodies. Thanks to his nap, he was wide awake, which was more than he could say for his bandmate, who was barely keeping his eyes open on the opposite end of the couch.

Niall had tried not to be rude to him, though their conversation had been a bit stunted since the whole Derby incident. Niall was never a mean person, and he wondered if perhaps he just needed to get out of the house. He'd gone as far as his back yard but it really wasn't enough to eliminate his cabin fever. He decided that in the morning he'd try apologizing to Harry and perhaps con the younger man in to going to lunch with him, mobility be damned.

It was at that point that Niall decided to fetch himself a drink to stretch his legs. As he entered the kitchen, though, his lightened mood immediately dissolved.

His kitchen was a _disaster_. There were dishes everywhere, not having been placed in the dishwasher. There were pots and frying pans from breakfast, as well as egg shells and the empty can from their baked beans that morning. The bread bag had been left unclipped and open to the air, and almost every cupboard door was open. There was even something hardened to the counter top that Niall couldn't quite identify.

The state of the room was like a punctuation mark on the end of a frustrating day. It had started with the boots, and then the cell phone shenanigans, and then had escalated with the unrecorded Derby match, only to finish off with _this?_ “ _Seriously_ , Harry?” Niall spun around and threw his kitchen door open. “I -”

Niall stopped. Harry's head had fallen back on to the cushion behind him, his arms folded across his chest as he breathed evenly, fast asleep. His mouth was hanging open like it always did when he slept, and Niall had always found that endearing. He looked peaceful, and calm, and like he was finally getting the rest he needed. He'd found safety in Niall's home.

Niall looked back at his kitchen, and it suddenly didn't even matter anymore. The dishes could be done later, and he could always buy more bread. Instead, he carefully made his way to the couch and tucked himself next to Harry, grabbing the blanket that had fallen on the floor. As he draped it over both of them, he got comfortable against Harry's shoulder, the taller boys' cheek coming to rest on the top of his head.

“I'm glad you're home,” Niall said softly, closing his eyes.

In response, Harry began to snore.

  
  



End file.
